


at the end of the day

by hypercatt



Category: South Park
Genre: Character Interaction, Christmas, College AU, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Lighthearted, shenanigans lmao, working through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypercatt/pseuds/hypercatt
Summary: Clyde spends Christmas alone.Or, that was the plan, anyway.
Kudos: 6





	at the end of the day

**Author's Note:**

> in last year's christmas fic i made a typo saying 'cube vibes' so i guess once again?? gettin those cube vibes ??????  
> this fic's kinda simple and dumb but i hope you can enjoy it lol;; get ready for a mess of random characters!!!!  
> enjoy!!! ;u;

Another year, and another record low.

Well, honestly, Clyde can’t actually tell whether this year is worse than the others, since this one isn’t really comparable. Okay, sure that right now outside looks all nice and magical and aesthetic-y. And walking up the hill with his scarf on and seeing the piles of snow perched alongside an empty road _had_ admittedly made him feel like he was in a Hallmark movie, so there’s that. Stuff like all the lights hung up, and the general silence of the whole street. Pretty, sure. He won’t deny that.

But.

Nobody in those movies walks up the street _alone_. They don’t wake up on Christmas morning with nobody beside them and no plans to meet anyone and nothing to do all day. Well, not unless it’s one of those ones where the protagonist has to save Christmas or whatever. Except Clyde isn’t going to save Christmas, and doesn’t have any C-rank actress girlfriend waiting for him outside. He’d just sat up in a stiff bed in a tiny box of a room with frost on the window and no presents anywhere to be seen. And they don’t even _have_ a tree, because all his flatmates left for home way before that point.

Maybe it isn’t necessarily objectively the worst Christmas he’s had so far, but it definitely feels close to it.

And probably, now it’s about to get a whole lot worse. Back in his room, it had seemed like a super smart idea to lug himself out the void of the flat and into the cold outside. Go somewhere new and _feel_ a new way. Except he has no plan, and all of campus is shut because obviously it is, it’s Christmas, so now he’s at the one place that stays open pretty much all year.

The library.

Clyde screws up his face as he stands outside, and not just because of the freezing cold wind whipping past his cheeks.

_Disgusting_. Out of all the places he could’ve ended up, this is just- the worst. Second to worse, actually, because there’s always that scary corner past one of the shops where apparently people go to exchange drugs and he heard also someone got stabbed there- but the library isn’t _too_ far off that level of extreme awful.

With a sigh, Clyde clenches his hands inside of his pockets and makes his way up the stairs to the building, taking care not to slip on the ice. God, that would be like the depression cherry on top of the…melancholy icing, or whatever. Not ending up on his ass feels like something to celebrate by the time he gets to the top, and he pushes the doors open before he can think too much about what he’s actually doing.

And there it is. The entire library, lit up as if not totally desolate, and still having any reason to be open on a day like this. The reception area is empty, duh, and so is everything else. Rows of books completely ignored. Chairs sat around tables in a silent meeting. The hum of the heater singing to itself. God, depressing. So so depressing.

Well, might as well make the most of it. Live the VIP library goer life.

Normally the top floor of the library is reserved for the especially studious, like those people who wake up at 4am just to get the good seats, or maybe never even go home at all. Now, with absolute minimal effort, Clyde has one of the best window seats all the way at the top, two in the afternoon on a weekday.

Just…a Christmas weekday.

Clyde takes out his laptop from his bag, taking a moment to admire the view whilst it boots up. Honestly, it’s cool, but not the _best_ he’s ever seen. It’s a city, and a city can only look so nice. Like, some of the light displays look pretty awesome from up here, but. It’s definitely not a spot worth waking up at 4am for. Those people must be kind of crazy.

A flash of blue fills up his screen, and Clyde moves his eyes back to his laptop, still feeling annoyingly hollow in his chest. Maybe he’s hungry. Probably hungry.

Besides his initial idea, he’d also had the wise thought whilst standing back at home in the cold kitchen that he could get some work done if he went to the library. Like, ‘wow, look at me, I’ve finished that essay that isn’t due for another three weeks because I have no friends or family with me on Christmas-‘

Might not tell his professor exactly that, but.

Except, now he’s here, the thought of reading (skimming) articles written by random old guys seems far far less appealing. Like even they’re probably having more fun than him today, and half of them are dead. Clyde stares at the page of the college website for a moment longer, before clicking away to YouTube. Because, like, actually, fuck this. This day _sucks_ , and he’s going to have a party by himself and feel stupid and then go home after and eat everything in his fridge because it’s Christmas and it doesn’t count.

The first song on the ‘Ultimate Christmas Party Hits Updated Yearly’ playlist actually doesn’t make him feel better. Clyde keeps staring at the window, then stands up with the music still playing, making his way over to one of the spinny computer chairs. Also a rare catch, normally.

“What a bright time, it’s a- bright time,” Clyde mutters along to the music as he leans back and spins himself around, watching the tiles on the ceiling blur together. “Go rockin’ in a…one horse sleigh…”

Man, he should probably remember this song better, considering it’s in Mean Girls. That bit where they slap their thighs, though. He remembers _that_.

The songs continue but Clyde’s spinning doesn’t, since he’s sure if he keeps going he’ll probably end up puking, which would be awkward because he doesn’t think the cleaners work over the holidays. Instead, he scoots back over to the table where he left his things, moving back to his bag and grabbing his water bottle. As hard as he tries, he can’t make himself believe the swig he takes of it is actually whiskey or something more fun.

Okay, no lies. This is still boring.

The next song starts up, and Clyde _does_ pout when he realises it’s Santa Claus is Coming to Town, except he’s not, because Christmas Eve was last night and he spent that alone too. Where was he then, when the world needed him most. Really, Santa’s kind of an asshole.

After pressing the skip button, Clyde spins a few more times, then picks up his water bottle and tosses it in the air. Lands on its side. He frowns, trying again. The side. Side again. Half on its side half on the top. Side.

“C’mon, Jesus, give me something to celebrate on your birthday,” Clyde mutters, giving it a final flip. It lands on its side again, and Clyde opts to leave it there. Clearly an atheist water bottle. He shouldn’t disrespect its beliefs.

Clyde turns back to the table, leaning his head down next to his laptop. It’s actually uncomfortable as hell, especially as the speakers are right next to his face and way too loud like this, but he lets himself stay there a while.

Maybe he should just go home. This, like many others, is a stupid idea. At least if he was at home he could walk around with no pants on and cry as openly as he wants to all day. Just wallow in his sadness, like all the people alone on Christmas are meant to do. That’s kind of a tradition in itself, he thinks. Okay, maybe not something they preach at church, but everyone knows it.

White Christmas fades out, and the silence is loomingly oppressive whilst the next song loads up. And it’s a complete nonsurprise when it does load, the opening bars making him feel as though Santa himself has him at gunpoint.

“Eyyyeeyyyeyy,” Clyde sings into the desk, voice low. “Don’t waaanaa lot…for Christttmas…”

The absolute demon of Christmas. He can never escape it.

“Make my wish come truuu-oooh-ooooohh…” He’s going home after this, he promises. This is just the moment he fully accepts his fate. Final meal before death row. Final Mariah Carey before surrender. “All I want…for Chrisssttmaass iiiissss…”

Clyde is not a singer. He has never taken a vocal lesson or even thought about doing that ever. Enough alcohol, he’ll join in, sure. Enough wallowing pity, also yes. And today is purely the latter, which is why the next noise that comes out of his mouth is reminiscent of a dog getting shot.

And _fuck it,_ Mariah Carey can eat her heart out.

Just as Clyde sucks in a recovery breath after his battle-cry ends, there’s a very distinct ‘ _woo!’_ from somewhere in the distance, and Clyde slams his laptop lid down.

Oh shit. Oh shit, he’s not alone. Oh no, that means _somebody heard that_.

“…Hello?” he calls out, looking around suspiciously. Maybe this is one of those prank shows. One of those ones that only happens on Christmas. Even though those definitely don’t exist. Well, could be ghosts as well. Clyde’s not sure which is worse.

Terrifyingly, the room doesn’t stay quiet after his question, and Clyde tries his hardest to keep an impassive ‘yeah so what I _knew_ you were there and this isn’t embarrassing for me at all because I’m one of those people who just never gets embarrassed about anything’ face as another guy rolls out on a computer chair from behind a shelf of books. His hood is up and a single earphone is hanging out from underneath in a very studenty fashion, which means he’s likely not a prank show host or a poltergeist. Seventy-five percent chance at least.

“Why’d you turn off the tunes?” the guy asks, swinging side to side on the chair. “I’ve never heard such passionate singing before. I really felt it.”

“I wasn’t singing,” Clyde says, which is one of the worst lies he could’ve come up with, a realisation that hits two seconds later. Like, who the hell else would it have been.

“You were totally singing, dude.”

“It was part of the video.” This is getting worse, he needs to divert. “What’re you doing here? It’s Christmas.”

The guy shrugs. “Not much.”

“Even though it’s Christmas?”

“Well, you’re here too.”

“Yes,” Clyde agrees.

“Look, man, I don’t mind if you wanna party,” the guy continues, scooting slightly closer to him. “I don’t care if you wanna belt it out, and I’m pretty sure there’s nobody else here right now.”

“I don’t normally…belt it out,” Clyde says, frowning. “I’m just kind of having a crisis right now.”

“Well, I don’t care if you do that either. I’m mostly just here for the heating.”

“Jesus, this is depressing, huh,” Clyde says, then sighs. “I’m Clyde.”

“Kenny,” the guy greets, nodding at him. “And life is only as depressing as you make it out to be.”

“Okay, that’s really not true,” Clyde says. “But fine, whatever. Party, I guess.”

He opens his laptop back up, aware of Kenny still watching him. It’s weird, because if anyone else was going to be here at Christmas, he would’ve assumed it was some total loser stereotypical nerd, too stressed about exams and essays to celebrate anything, even their own birthday. But Kenny doesn’t seem like that. He seems chill, which just makes Clyde wonder more why he’s here. But if he doesn’t ask, then Kenny won’t ask him, and then nothing has to be awkward.

“So,” Clyde starts once the music has loaded up again, deliberately quieter this time. “Are you…studying?”

“Hell no. I’ve been looking at naked chicks in the Philosophy section.”

“Fuck off,” Clyde says. “There are no books with naked chicks in the library.”

“I’m serious. They have all these chapters about women in art and only like, ten percent actually have their clothes on. Sometimes you get both halves in one picture.”

“Bullshit,” Clyde says, then, “Prove it.”

“Sure.” Kenny scoots away back towards the direction he came, and Clyde waits sceptically, turning only to skip some unknown song. It always takes a while to realise he doesn’t know one, since all Christmas music kind of sounds the same.

After only thirty seconds or so, Kenny reappears, holding a large hard-back book. He hits it down against the table, throwing it open expertly. Clyde leans forwards.

“I told you,” Kenny says. “It’s about how women are presented in certain political art movements.”

“Shit, dude,” Clyde says. “I didn’t know they could have big titties back then.”

“Art is ageless,” Kenny says, nodding sagely.

Clyde decides that Kenny has proven his worth.

They spend another couple minutes checking out the asses and boobs of women from a hundred years ago, and Clyde can safely say he feels much more educated now than he did beforehand. Still, as great as it is, there’s only so many pictures, and soon enough he finds himself slipping back into boredom.

Kenny at least seems like the type who can easily entertain himself, singing along to the playlist with a lot more skill and enthusiasm than Clyde possesses, spinning around in his chair. Clyde leans his head back, feeling his own chair click slightly at the change of angle. It better not break.

“It’s kinda cool with nobody here, huh,” Kenny says, pulling his legs up to sit crosslegged on the chair. “Seems bigger.”

“It’s weird,” Clyde says, glancing around the expansive room. “Feel like I’m not meant to be here.”

“Well, they don’t have cameras anyway,” Kenny says. “Only at the entrance.”

“What happens if someone steals a book?”

“The alarms, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah.” Clyde swings himself around a single time. “Guess we can mess around as much as we want, then.”

“Once a year opportunity,” Kenny says with a grin.

That feels like a challenge, somehow, and Clyde crosses his arms. “So what’s your idea?”

“Gimme a sec.” Kenny stands up from the chair, ducking behind the shelves once more. The speed as to which he returns tells Clyde that this guy is truly a library master, an appreciation that grows more when Kenny throws him over a broom.

“Best of three?” Clyde asks, and Kenny shakes his head.

“Fight ‘til the death,” he says, holding up his own weapon, and Clyde nods in return.

As much as Clyde hates to admit it, he doesn’t channel his inner ten-year old as often as he should, and it definitely shows with every jab Kenny lands on him, the wheels of his chair working desperately to roll across the carpet. All the warriors he once led as a child must be so disappointed in his lack of skill. Dexterity, speed, strength…it’s all so lacking.

Clyde spins to the side, using the broom to regain his balance. “So you’re staying here all day?”

“Yeah,” Kenny says, paddling towards him with alarming precision. “Are you?”

“I dunno.” Clyde ducks out of the way as Kenny aims for his shoulder. “Dude, watch it, you’re gonna get my eye.”

“Sorry.” Kenny aims for his chest next. “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”

“I do.” Clyde attempts a lunge, and fails. “It used to be my favourite holiday.”

“Kinda loses its charm as you get older, huh.” Kenny readjusts when Clyde starts backing away from him, trying to get a better angle.

“Tell me about it.”

“At least it’s only one day,” Kenny says, mirroring Clyde’s actions and pulling his chair back.

“Well, technically two,” Clyde says. “Last night, too.”

“You do anything?”

Clyde thinks it over, then decides being cool doesn’t matter when he’s only just met this guy and will probably never meet him again. “I cried, ate a full packet of brownies, watched porn, and then cried some more.”

“Oh, dude.” Kenny shakes his head, drawing his broom backwards. “I need to put you out of your misery.”

“If you’re here, you’re just as pathetic as me,” Clyde says, readying himself. “That means killing you is just as fair.”

Kenny grins. “Try it.”

With all the force Clyde can muster, he darts his chair forwards, positioned to kill. Not a second later, Kenny joins the race, and for a moment all Clyde can see is the blur of the books around him, before there’s a loud clunk of the brooms clashing, followed by an abrupt plasticy crashing noise. And, just after, a distant shout. It distracts Clyde for a second, partially wondering if it’s possible to get a concussion from a piece of wood this thin. But when he comes to his bearings, Clyde is upright, and Kenny is toppled over.

“Fuck yes!” Clyde cheers, throwing his broom aside, before realising the situation. “Oh, uh, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kenny says, pushing the chair off his torso and sitting up. “Did you hear someone yell just then?”

“You heard that too?”

They’re silent for a few seconds, glancing around their apparently not empty surroundings. No more yells.

“You’re sure we’re not being watched?” Clyde asks, helping Kenny up. “You said no cameras.”

“There aren’t any cameras, I’m sure.” Kenny walks over to the stairway, leaning down dangerously low. “Hey! Anybody down there?”

“I feel like I should’ve done that to start,” Clyde mutters, shaking his head. “Watch there be like fifty people down there.”

“Anyone?” Kenny calls out again. “Promise we’re not axe-murderers.”

“That’s exactly what an axe-murderer would say!” a voice rises up from somewhere below, and Clyde glances at Kenny.

“Well, shit,” he says.

“Guess there’s someone else,” Kenny says, leaning back. “Wanna go find him?”

“Uh, I guess.” To apologise for being so disruptive, mostly.

“Three is _always_ better than two,” Kenny says as he starts down the stairs, and Clyde follows along after him. “Nothing intended.”

Clyde chooses to ignore that.

It feels a little horror movie-esqe just walking along the empty library like this, even if it’s the middle of the day and there’s light coming from both the ceiling lights and the sky outside. Well, The Shining took place in that kind of setting too, right? Even the snow. Clyde glances around warily, expecting the person they’re looking for to jump out and reveal himself to be a spooky, very imaginative Christmas demon. That was the monster in that film, right? Instead of thinking about that, Clyde turns his attention to Kenny, who doesn’t seem bothered by any of this in the slightest.

“So, uh,” he starts, keeping behind as Kenny peers around a row of bookshelves. “You a freshman?”

“Junior,” Kenny says. “Majoring Psychology.”

"Oh, cool, me too,” Clyde says. “I mean, the junior part. I don’t do Psychology. I’m Zoology.”

“Like you wanna be a vet?”

“I…guess.” More just he really liked learning about bugs and stuff, but he’d learnt from many failed pick-up attempts that people generally don’t like hearing about that. And also most people don’t know what entomology is, and assume he’s trying to become a doctor. Which really couldn’t be further from the truth. “Dude, where is this guy? You think he’s hiding?”

“Could be a ghost.”

Clyde side-eyes him. “You think?”

“Ghost axe-murderer,” Kenny says as he keeps walking towards the back of the floor. “Driven crazy by the pressure of final exams, they used the fire-escape axe to murder all the other students, and then finally, themself.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Kenny shrugs, before his eyes catch onto something in the distance. “Oh, never mind. Found him.”

Clyde leans forwards beside him, glancing over to the corner near the main entrance to the library. At first he only sees a bag leaning against the table, and a viciously bouncing leg, but when he moves a little further he can the full body of the mystery person. He looks a little strung out, but not really axe-murderer levels of strange. As if sensing their eyes on him, his head suddenly snaps up, eyes wide.

“Hey!” Clyde calls out first, which instantly makes him feel guilty, since the guy jumps at the sound of his voice. “Sorry, we’re not trying to scare you, uh.”

“We’re just students,” Kenny adds on as he walks closer, and the shivering guy draws back slightly into his chair.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks with suspicious eyes, then quickly switches to something more startled. “Something fell! Before!”

“Oh, yeah, that was me,” Kenny says.

“You-?”

“Sorry if we were being noisy,” Clyde says, pulling a face that he hopes looks apologetic. “And sorry if you heard us talking about slapping ass. I promise we really do respect women.”

“Uh??” The guy stares at them as if trying to figure out who’s the weird one here. “I didn’t hear that?”

“Oh, okay. Good.”

“What’re you guys doing here?” the stranger asks again, eyes darting between the two of them. “I heard a bunch of noise but I didn’t wanna interrupt, but then things started crashing and I thought maybe they were doing some construction work and I didn’t know and I’m gonna end up getting kicked out or the ceiling’s gonna cave in and kill me or something!”

“Nah, we were just messing around,” Kenny says, amazingly able to keep up with whatever the hell this guy just choked out. On the table, Clyde can see a mess of papers and at least three different pens lying around. He’s starting to get the impression that this guy might be a little unhinged. Probably should’ve guessed that when he accused them of being murderers. “I’m Kenny, and this is Clyde. Nice to meet you.”

“We don’t know each other,” Clyde adds, and Kenny nods.

“Yeah, we don’t.”

“You guys are really weird-!” the other guy says, before shaking his head. “Uh, I’m Tweek.”

“You can’t call _us_ weird if that’s your name, dude,” Clyde says, crossing his face.

“Gh, I didn’t choose to be called that!”

“Are you studying?” Kenny asks, glancing at the explosion of papers, on the table.

“K-kind of,” Tweek says, frowning. “I thought if I came here I could concentrate better, but…ghh.”

“C’mon, dude, one day isn’t gonna kill you,” Clyde says. “It’s Christmas. Take a break.”

“I can’t take a break! If I skip today then I’ll become okay with skipping out on things, and then I won’t be able to finish my essays, and I’ll fail the semester and fail the year and end up homeless and donating my blood for food money! And I only have so much blood!”

“…I…don’t think that’ll happen,” Clyde says after a moment. Did he say ‘slightly’ unhinged before? Maybe he should’ve gone with ‘very’. “Okay, fair that it would be bad if that did happen, but I don’t think it will.”

“I dunno, man, you can never be too careful,” Tweek mutters, gripping his sleeve nervously.

“You’re a freshman, then?” Kenny asks, which is a very plausible conclusion after hearing that complete mess of mental snowballing. But, Tweek shakes his head again.

“Junior.”

“Wow,” Clyde says. “I wish I could put that much effort in after three years.”

He wants to add that this is the type of person who’s bound for success in life, except normally those types of people don’t look like they’re about to suffer eight consecutive heart attacks whilst studying. Maybe they’re all in the same boat, then.

“You want to play chair soccer with us?” Kenny asks, having apparently come to this same conclusion.

“Chair soccer?” Tweek’s eyebrows twitch.

“We don’t have an actual ball, but we can probably make it work.”

“Could use a water bottle,” Clyde suggests, and Kenny nods at him as if he’s just proposed the solution to every global economic crisis.

“No way, man!” Tweek yelps. “That sounds way too dangerous!”

“Aww,” Clyde says, frowning. “Can’t you at least ref for us?”

“Uh, I-“ Tweek frowns. “I guess…?”

“Hang on, I left the stuff on the top floor-“ Kenny says, making a quick dash away from them. Clyde stares for a moment, then chooses to lean against the half of the table that isn’t scattered with papers. Hopefully it makes him look cool.

“Soooo,” Clyde starts, which amazingly makes Tweek jump again. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“I mean- I guess I do,” Tweek says, hand nervously clutching at one of his pens. “I just- I dunno! Didn’t wanna go home this year.”

“Oh, me neither.” Clyde watches him for a moment. “It’s like, uh…stressful? Right?”

“So stressful!” Tweek says, with such force that Clyde fears he might send him into a panic just with that one word. Like, waving a magic wand. ‘Stress!’ And an anxiety attack starts. “Everyone pretends it’s a day where you’re meant to relax and have fun but it’s always totally the opposite of that!”

“Oh god, it so is,” Clyde groans, leaning his head back. “It’s a scam.”

“Totally a scam,” Tweek mutters, scribbling something down on his paper. Clyde tries to visually eavesdrop, but deciphering the handwriting is probably harder than upside down hieroglyphics.

“Are you the only other person here?” Clyde asks. “We thought we were alone.”

“I dunno, I didn’t hear anyone else,” Tweek says. “I heard the door go twice, and your music, and singing-“

“That was Kenny,” Clyde interjects quickly.

“And then the crash and now you’re here.”

“Hmm, I guess if you only heard two people come in it might just be us.” Which is still more than Clyde was expecting on Christmas, honestly. “Someone could’ve come before you arrived, though. What time did you get here?”

“Ngh, like six?”

“…In the morning?” Clyde asks in delayed horror, and Tweek nods. “Oh god. How do you wake up that early?”

“What? I was already awake.”

“O-kay well- I think we’re probably the only ones here,” Clyde says, trying not to imagine whatever sleep pattern this guy has. And Clyde thought _he_ was bad, always deciding to go to bed at three. “Any reason you’re sat down here when all the library is free?”

“If there’s an earthquake, the ground floor is always the safest.”

“An earthquake?” Clyde blinks. “Here?”

“Just in case.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been an earthquake here, dude.”

“But just in case!” Tweek stresses, as if this is very reasonable. Maybe it is. Admittedly, Clyde doesn’t know how probable it is for an earthquake to hit a zone where it never has before. Like, it doesn’t _sound_ likely, but…

“Yo, I got the brooms,” Kenny’s voice calls over from the stairs, and he appears a few seconds later holding the same two from before. “There are computer chairs down here, right?”

They have to drag them over from the other side of the room over to where Tweek is, which is actually a good space to play anyway, even if not quite as wide as the top floor. It’s more cluttered. They probably store all the important stuff down here, so nobody has to climb up to find it. It makes sense somehow that Tweek is down here on the ‘studious’ level, and Clyde had been up at the top. He definitely _feels_ like a top-level kind of guy.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Kenny asks once they’ve established from where to where is the goal cut-off, using the shelves and tables as guidance. Tweek might as well have snapped his neck with how hard he shakes his head in rejection.

“You’re probably gonna end up dead! And then I’m gonna have to call the ambulance, gh!”

“Don’t worry, Tweek,” Clyde tries to reassure him. “If I die, I’ll call the ambulance myself.”

“Same here,” Kenny adds, and Tweek just groans, putting his head back down to the desk.

To be honest, Clyde doesn’t think that soccer is nearly as dangerous as fencing, considering this time they’re aiming at the bottle, and not each other. Just for that reason, it feels even more important to try his best to beat Kenny, especially since he can’t tell if he actually won before. Except- this game is hard. The bottle still has some water in it, which makes it annoyingly heavy to hit, and half the time it ends up just stuck between the two of them, out of reach.

“That was a goal!” Clyde exclaims after a rare successful hit, turning back to Tweek. “Dude, right? You saw?”

“It was too far left,” Tweek mumbles, eyes darting up only momentarily from where he’s writing. “Doesn’t count.”

“I told you,” Kenny says smugly, and Clyde frowns.

“Whatever, this game sucks anyway.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re losing.”

“A bit.” He’s not going to deny that. “But also no, it does suck.”

“Yeah, it kinda does.” Kenny throws down the broom, leaning back and swaying slightly in his chair. Clyde puts his down too, and swears he can see Tweek visibly relax from beside him. Or, as much as he thinks is possible for the guy, at least.

“God, what time is it?” Clyde asks, patting his pockets before remembering that he left his phone back upstairs.

“Three twenty-four,” Tweek answers, and Clyde groans again.

“This day is never gonna end.”

“If you were a school kid, three thirty would be the end of your day,” Kenny points out.

“If I were a school kid, I wouldn’t be spending Christmas alone in a college library,” Clyde mutters, then the sadness of that statement hits him, and he sinks down slightly. “I feel like such a loser.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Kenny says, scooting over to him and attempting to put an arm over his shoulder. “You’re not alone. You got us.”

“I guess,” Clyde says. He tries not to think about whatever’s happening at home, all those miles away. It’s not like he made a pact not to think about it; in fact, he’d kind of planned to spend _all day_ thinking about it, planning to spend the day moping, but if he thinks about it _now_ he’ll definitely cry, and these guys will think he’s even more of a loser. So, he’s not going to think about it. Later. When they’re gone. “You guys wanna play a board game?”

“You think they have any here?” Kenny asks.

“I mean…doesn’t like, every library have something?” Clyde isn’t sure, really. “Say if like…kids spent the day here.”

“Only college students are allowed in here though,” Tweek pipes up, which isn’t helpful to Clyde’s reasoning.

“Okay, uh- what if a student was having a breakdown? And it was like, ‘I know I have to finish this essay but if I don’t play Monopoly within the next five minutes I’m going to kill every person in this room’?”

“And then they use the axe from the fire escape-“ Kenny starts, but is cut off by Tweek’s yelp.

“What are you guys _talking_ about?!”

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Clyde continues, trying to get back to the point. “It’s worth a look.”

Apparently that reasoning is good enough for Kenny, since he stands up when Clyde does, even though he has no idea where he’s going. Tweek remains still – or, technically not, since he’s still shaking so much – and Clyde hopes that by the time they get back he’ll have finished whatever it is he feels he has to do, because three player games are usually better than two.

Fight to the death if he doesn’t get to be red, though.

“Are you staying here all day?” Kenny starts up as they walk towards the back of the room, presumably in search of a storage cupboard.

“I dunno,” Clyde replies. “I was gonna go before, but now I might stay. Like, it’s less lonely, at least.”

“Yeah?” Kenny’s eyes meet his, and suddenly Clyde feels weirdly vulnerable, like Kenny can gaze right into his mind and steal all his thoughts. It’s an abrupt change from how easy-going he’d seemed so far. Oh fuck, is that the power of a Psychology major? “If it’s personal, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s not like it’s anything serious,” Clyde says, looking away. “I just- decided not to go home this year.”

“Like, family issues?” Kenny asks. “I won’t judge, man. I’ve been there too.”

“I dunno how to describe it,” Clyde says, sighing. “I’m just- staying here this year. And hoping it’s going better for other people than it is for me.”

“That’s fair,” Kenny says, reverting back to his previous manner. It only just makes Clyde feel less scrutinised. “Part of the reason I’m not going back is just ‘cause I can’t afford it. I feel bad for leaving my siblings alone, but it’s probably better if I’m not there anyway.”

“Yeah…I get that.”

“Things always seem worse at this time of the year, but it’ll pass. Then things will just be their usual shittiness.”

“Are you training to be a therapist?” Clyde asks, because he really has no idea what else a Psychology degree is for. “I don’t know if telling people that will make them feel better.”

“Well, lying won’t help. The new year isn’t going to make everything magically matter.”

“Nooo, dude, don’t say that,” Clyde sulks, dropping his shoulders as he follows Kenny to a door near the back. “That’s what I’ve got all my hopes pinned on.”

“Well, maybe it will be then.” Kenny cracks the door open, peering his head in.

“You just said it won’t! I can’t believe you now.”

“All power to the client,” Kenny says, fumbling around to click the light on. To Clyde, this just looks like an extra dusty place to store more books, but who knows, maybe there’s a game of Cluedo around here somewhere.

“Why do you wanna be a therapist anyway?” Clyde asks as they make their way around the room. “Like, what if someone came in and just cried nonstop? Or they were totally crazy, like a psychopath. Or they were just a super downer. That would be depressing.”

“I just feel like I’m meant to help people,” Kenny explains, bending down and rummaging through a couple drawers, before he stands back up. “I don’t care what the problem is. We’ve all got demons.”

For a couple seconds, Clyde just watches Kenny sort through the shelves, taking it in fully where he actually is right now. He has that aura where Clyde wants to tell him everything going through his head, like the kind where even though they’ve known each other for like an hour he knows Kenny won’t laugh at him. But, he doesn’t want to. Instead, he just says, “I’ve never had therapy.”

“I think everyone could benefit from a session or two,” Kenny says, then he stops, eyes lighting up. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Clyde is confused, trying to figure out what the hell relating to therapy would have made him grin like that, before he remembers they’re in here for a purpose, not just to get caught up in the weird vibes. Well, unless a stack of tatty looking board games is actually related to psychology in some way. Oh no, maybe there’s like, a Psychology degree drinking game for Monopoly like the one where you have to take shots instead of paying taxes, but instead of shots you have to share a personal insecurity-

“I guess you were right about them keeping some stocked here,” Kenny is saying, blowing a layer of dust off the first cover. “What do you want? Are you one of those people into chess?”

“Do I have to tell you my deepest secrets?” Clyde asks sullenly, and Kenny stares back at him.

“Uh, no?”

“Okay, cool.”

“Unless you want to,” Kenny adds, winking.

“I don’t want to! And I don’t like chess. I don’t get it.”

“I’ll just take them all,” Kenny says, lifting up the boxes, and Clyde watches the resulting puff of dust rise up into the air. Sad, really, that they haven’t been used in so long. There’s a board game club at college, he knows that because he’s always wanted to check out (but can’t go alone because that’s lame). Sure, the complicated games are all popular now, but the simple ones are the best.

“What do you think of the other guy?” Clyde asks as they exit the room, leaving the gross musty smell behind them. Serious old people home vibes. “He seems pretty jumpy, huh.”

Kenny shrugs, the boxes making rattling as his arms move. “I guess.”

“You think he’s gonna stay here all day?” Clyde continues. “Wait, are you even gonna stay here all day?”

“I do love to take advantage of any twenty-four-hour building,” Kenny says. “But I’m not sure yet.”

“Have you ever slept here?” Clyde inquires, quirking a brow. Kenny smirks at him from the side.

“Not with company.”

“Gross, dude,” Clyde says, rolling his eyes. When they reach Tweek again, it’s a big relief. He doesn’t know Kenny well enough to know if he’s joke flirting or not, and doesn’t really want to find out. Not that he has anything _against_ that, that’s fine, it’s just- not his thing. And in a library. Ew.

Whilst Kenny starts sorting through the games, Clyde slides down on the seat next to Tweek, once again making an attempt to make out the scrawls. Weirdly enough, when he looks, it’s not actually that disorganised- more just like a confusing mess. If that makes sense. Either way, Tweek seems to know what he’s doing despite the erratic nature of his page.

“What’re you working on?” Clyde decides to ask, giving up on decoding it. Tweek jumps, pulling one hand over his work. “You’re not a government spy, are you?”

“What! No!” Tweek narrows his eyes at him. “Are _you_?”

“Nobody is a government spy,” Kenny says from the side.

“I’m just saying, you could be,” Clyde says, gesturing to the paper. “’Cause not gonna lie, I can’t read any of that.”

“It’s an essay plan! Sorting notes into chapters!”

“Oh, yeah.” Clyde stares again at the paper. “I see that now.”

He doesn’t. He really really doesn’t.

“Connect Four,” Kenny declares, heavily throwing down the game on the table. Luckily away from Tweek’s work, because Clyde has a feeling he might seriously freak out if any of his stuff gets pushed out of its carefully disorganised position.

“Dude, no, Connect Four is like the most boring game,” Clyde groans, pulling a face at the box. Two happy kids acting like they’re having the time of their life playing a game that lasts about thirty seconds and always ends the same way. Fucking diagonals. He never sees them coming.

“Okay, I agree, regular Connect Four is shit,” Kenny says. “But what about Connect Four _from_ four.”

“…I have no idea what that is.”

“You stand four metres away,” Kenny starts, and Clyde already knows this is going to be a bad idea. Which is good, in a way. “And the other person holds the board, so you have to try and catch the pieces.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I dunno, I’ve never tried it before.”

“Gh, you guys are gonna end up getting pieces everywhere,” Tweek points out.

“You wanna play too?”

“No way! Why do all your games involve danger?”

“I wouldn’t really call it _danger_ ,” Kenny says thoughtfully, and Clyde is worried he might suggest something that actually does count as dangerous.

“You’re not gonna take out my eye with one of those counters,” Tweek says, not letting down his guard. Instead, he pulls down his paper off the desk, slipping underneath the table. Clyde watches as he rearranges himself back into writing position under there.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction?” he asks. “They’re only made of plastic.”

“If that gets you in the face, you could scratch your retina! And I don’t have money for the health bills and if I go blind I won’t be able to study or eat or anything!”

“I mean, I think you can do some classes in braille-“

“Clyde.” Kenny cuts him off, holding up the blue plastic of the grid. “Your turn.”

“Oh-“ Clyde picks up the red counter from the desk, squinting his eyes slightly. “Am I four metres away? I can’t even remember how much that is.”

“Bit further back?” Kenny suggests, and Clyde manoeuvres backwards, keeping an eye behind him to make sure he doesn’t crash into a bookshelf or anything. That would be a really lame way to K.O. so early into the game. “Perfect.”

“Dude, this actually seems really hard,” Clyde says, frowning. “Do I get until I get one in or is my turn over if I miss?”

“Until you get one in?” Kenny says, then smirks. “That’s when all the fun begins, at least.”

“I think you’ve got dick on your mind too much, dude,” Clyde has to say, shaking his head. Then he readies his arm, trying to figure out how the hell he’s meant to get the counter in such a tiny slot from so far away. With as much confidence as he can muster, Clyde tosses the tiny piece of red plastic across the room, which glides for about two metres before dropping pathetically to the floor. Not exactly quarterback material.

“Weak,” Kenny boos, shaking his head, and Clyde furrows his brows as he swipes all the remaining red counters from the side.

“That was a practice shot,” Clyde mutters, before throwing another. It flies across much quicker, smacking the side of the board before falling to the floor. “You gotta position it so they’ll go in, or else it’ll never work.”

“Like this?” Kenny holds it sideways, lifting it up slightly.

“Try lower?” Clyde throws another, which goes too far left. “God this is hard as shit. Has anyone actually managed to win this?”

“You’re the first person I’ve managed to convince to play it, and that’s a win in my eyes.”

“Wow.” Clyde tries again, and this time Kenny at least tries to catch it in the board, moving to the side. Of course, it misses. “I got a friend who takes a bunch of Physics classes, and I bet if I asked him, he’d say this was the most impossible shit ever.”

“Good thing he’s not here then?” Kenny says, shrugging. He jumps to the right to try and catch another attempt, which seems closer, but also not at all close to actually getting into the board.

“It basically is impossible!” Tweek yelps from under the table. “You’d have to get the chip to stay at a flat angle and have the board positioned just right so that it manages to fit into one of the holes!”

“I mean, that seems less likely than it going in your eye,” Clyde points out, but Tweek doesn’t reply. Well, there’s logic, and then there’s logic. And Clyde doesn’t really get either of them.

Besides, now that he knows how unlikely it is, it makes him want to try harder to actually land one. Like, how impressive would that be. Especially right after Tweek saying how unlikely it is. Now he has to get one in perfectly, make it look totally effortless, and then be forever praised by these two strangers as ‘this guy I met in the library on Christmas who got a Connect 4 piece in the grid from the other side of the room’. And who doesn’t dream of becoming that as a young child?

Fame. Fortune. Depth perception.

Inhaling his inner power, Clyde positions himself again and clenches his hand hard around the piece. Feeling its potential, and feeling his own. He opens his eyes, and sends the counter on its path to glory.

Only about three inches too wide.

To his credit, Kenny attempts a dive to the same side as the counter, scrambling to get the board into a somewhat in-line position. Except, less to his credit, he loses his balance, and Clyde watches as both the counter and Kenny crash down against the door behind him. He’s worried for a moment that it’s going to be like one of those videos he’s seen on the internet where a person falls into a door and it opens and swallows them up and then there’s a staircase on the other side and wow he’s going to feel really bad for laughing at all of those if that happens to this guy right now-

Except, the door hardly cracks open at all, and Kenny ends up slumped down next to it, thankfully looking uninjured. This guy falls too much. Seriously bad luck.

“I think that was closer-“ Clyde starts, ready to start his speech of pseudo-confidence, before suddenly all the fire alarms around them begin to scream. Oh, well, all the fire alarms and Tweek. But somehow that bit doesn’t surprise him.

“What the hell did you do!” Tweek cries, scrambling out from under the table and glancing around with round eyes. “Something’s on fire!!”

“Nah, I just hit the fire door,” Kenny says, pointing towards it. “Sets the alarms off.”

“Oh god oh god oh god, we have to turn it off!” The alarms are annoying, sure, but Tweek looks legitimately so panicked that Clyde actually feels sort of bad. Maybe he’s one of those people who can’t deal with loud noises or they get war flashbacks or something. Okay, probably not _actually_ war flashbacks, because Tweek said he’s only a junior like them but still. Point stands.

“I think there’s a switch somewhere in the office,” Kenny says, and Clyde has to strain to hear his voice over the alarms. “Can probably shut it off from there.”

“Oh god, now we have to break into the office?!” Tweek grabs at his hair, looking increasingly distressed.

“Hey, it’s okay, dude. Technically the library is public property so you can’t break in.” Clyde thinks that’s a pretty good defusal of the situation, but Tweek doesn’t look reassured. “You can stay here if you want?”

“Yeah, I can go alone,” Kenny adds. “My fault anyway.”

“Nah, man, I’ll join you,” Clyde says, less because he actually wants to and more just because the ringing is already hurting his ears and they can probably shut it up sooner with more of them.

“I’m not staying here alone!” Tweek exclaims. “What if the police come here trying to find whoever set it off? I don’t wanna get arrested!!”

“Don’t stress, we’ll sort it,” Clyde says, patting him on the back, then regretting it when Tweek flinches. Okay, lesson learnt. Be extra careful with this guy.

Kenny takes charge in leading to them to the office, which Clyde is glad for, since he doesn’t know where it is. And the door isn’t even locked, which is extra lucky, because Clyde hadn’t _really_ wanted to break in, even if it would be technically legal.

Sadly, the room isn’t laid out as easily as Clyde wants it to be. Like, he’d kind of been expecting that they’d walk in and there would just be a button like ‘if you accidentally set off the alarm, press here and it’ll go away like it never happened’. The reality is just a bunch of chairs and desks with those fancy things to keep paper neat stacked along the side. Nothing here that even looks like a button.

“Split up and look?” Kenny suggests, and Clyde nods. At this point it feels like that ringing is going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Just like the sound of his phone alarm, which he’s sure he has some kind of trauma response from now.

The desperation to shut off the noise tragically doesn’t help him to find the shut-off any quicker, though he does find a bunch of papers detailing book requests from over the years. The oldest of them is from four years ago, and is still filled in as ‘pending’. Student R.C. is not getting that book any time soon, huh.

The office isn’t that big though, and it feels like they’ve already checked every side of it. When Clyde glances at Tweek rummaging through drawers beside him, he still looks strung out, but no less determined. Meanwhile, Kenny seems to have given up, and Clyde feels the same way.

“Maybe we should look somewhere e-“ Clyde starts, when the alarms suddenly shut off. The resulting silence feels loud, somehow. Like the piece of his brain concerned with the noise has just disappeared without warning.

“…I guess they shut off automatically after a while?” Kenny suggests, and then two things happen at once. First thing, the door to the office opens, and two, Tweek screams.

“What the _hell_ are you guys doing in here?”

“Oh god, it’s the police!!” Tweek squawks, ducking down. Clyde stares with wide eyes, trying to figure out if this random newcomer actually _is_ the police. Okay, he’s not in a uniform, and he looks about the same age as them, but maybe he’s like- really good and just got the job early and now they’re going to get arrested? Fuck, on Christmas? Can you really get arrested on _Christmas_?

“Are you students?” the guy demands, eyebrows furrowed underneath the brim of his hat. “And you didn’t answer my question. Why are you even in here?”

“We were trying to turn off the fire alarm,” Kenny explains, still managing to sound totally calm and composed. Okay, Clyde’s just going to leave it to him. “And yeah, we’re all students of the college. No break ins. The door was even unlocked.”

“Why was the alarm going off?” the guy keeps questioning, crossing his arms. He seems seriously pissed.

“We accidentally set off one of the doors,” Kenny says. “Just a mistake.”

“You know the control panel for the fire alarm isn’t even in here,” he says, and Clyde thinks they’re being looked at like idiots.

“If we knew that, we wouldn’t be in here, dude,” Clyde has to add. “Are you actually police?”

“What? No?” He’s definitely looking at them like they’re idiots. “I’m Kyle, a volunteer for the library.”

“Oh shit, were you here the whole time?” Kenny asks.

“Oh Jesus,” Tweek mutters, still shivering at Clyde’s side.

“No, I just came in when I got the alert the alarm went off,” Kyle answers. “You know that there’s a fine for setting off the alarm? You’re lucky no actual fire service showed up.”

“Nah, they don’t actually send out the fire services for alarms on college property,” Kenny says. “Not until it’s confirmed. I already know that.”

“ _Why_ do you know that??” Tweek asks nervously, and Kenny just shrugs.

“Are you the only ones here?” Kyle continues to ask.

“We think so?” Clyde replies, then frowns. “C’mon, dude. Don’t fine us. It was an accident. And it’s Christmas! Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“I’m Jewish,” Kyle replies plainly, and Clyde shrinks back. Goddammit. “Okay, fine, I’ll let it slide this time. But if you do it again, I’m going to get security involved.”

“Nice,” Kenny says, grinning. “Thanks, bro.”

“Okay, well if there’s nothing actually going on here,” he says, turning back towards the door. “Try not to break anything. Driving in the snow sucks, and I’d rather not do it again.”

“We promise!” Clyde says, hurrying to follow him out the room. Feels like he’s back in first year of high school, getting scolded by one of the bitchy teachers. Not an experience he likes to relive.

“Also, why are there Connect 4 pieces all over the room?” Kyle asks, throwing a glance behind him.

“We’ll pick that up,” Clyde says quickly.

They filter back through to the main room, and just for good measure, Clyde sits down at the desk where Tweek had been working before, just to look like he’s a good student who had been studying all along. Ignoring the paper on the floor. Tweek joins him, and Kenny just lingers by the table, watching as the library assistant guy waves them a goodbye without looking back. It’s only when Clyde glances to the main doors does he realise it’s actually starting to get dark. At last, the end of the day is in sight.

Even if it gets dark at like four during winter.

…Maybe it’s not as late as he wants it to be.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” Kenny says after a moment.

“Ghh,” is all Tweek says in reply.

“Hey, don’t worry! At least he didn’t fine us.” Clyde almost goes to pat him again, before remembering that’s a no go. Instead, he tries a thumbs up. Tweek just gives him a stern look, though there’s definitely a hint of relief behind it.

“So what now?” Kenny asks, and Clyde sighs, slumping down against the table.

“No offense, but please no more board games.”

“Fair,” Kenny replies. “That one didn’t really work.”

“I feel like it’d be good if I was drunk,” Clyde thinks aloud.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“That would make it even more impossible,” Tweek points out. He seems less concerned with his work now, just folding one of the corners of his paper up into a small triangle.

“I might just binge some Netflix,” Clyde says, thinking distantly of his laptop still up on the top level. And his phone. Oh, but he doesn’t want to look at his phone. “Or I dunno. Go home.”

“Do you live nearby?” Kenny asks, pulling out a few books from the shelf before sliding them back in.

“Pretty close. Normally I have flatmates around.” And now all he has is a sad empty kitchen and a cold room with a bunch of socks on the floor. “I’m just-“

Whatever words were about to come out of his own mouth, Clyde doesn’t know, because the main doors open again and cut him off. They all turn, probably expecting to see actual police or firemen this time, but it’s just Kyle again. And he still looks pissed off. Fuck, they didn’t even do anything this time-

“-any sooner?” he’s saying, and Clyde lets himself ease up when he notices the guy is talking on the phone. Okay, then not pissed off at them. Kyle leans back against the front desk, seemingly oblivious to them all watching. “Yes, I know what day it is, but three _hours_ \- don’t you have anyone that doesn’t celebrate? Uh, yes, we exist, I’m one of them- no, that doesn’t mean I don’t care how _long_ it takes-!”

They watch as Kyle pulls his phone away from his face in irritation, spending a few moments to type furiously into it. Only after he’s finished does he seem to notice their staring.

“…My car isn’t starting,” he mutters, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I swear, people treat his day like the whole world has stopped or something.”

“That’s okay, dude, you can hang with us,” Kenny says, which is kind of the last thing Clyde wants to do, but it would be dick-ish to say that now.

Kyle spends a moment longer looking annoyed, before he walks over to join them, even if it seems reluctant. To be fair, he probably does have a right to be pissed off. It’s kind of their fault he’s even here right now, even if it’s not their fault that he has to stay here.

Still. Knowing this guy is like, a library carer and in charge of a bunch of stuff feels kind of awkward. That same kind of feeling when you’re watching a rude film with your friends, and then your mom walks in. That’s this time. He’s the mom. They can’t do anything stupid with him around, or they’re just going to get told off.

“So, uh.” He needs to think of something to say, or this is gonna be awful. “What were you doing before you came here?”

“Studying,” Kyle says, leaning his head against his hand. “Most of my deadlines are at the start of January, so.”

“When’s, uh…” Clyde screws up his face, trying to remember the word. Fuck, he really should know this. This is culturally insensitive. Why did he always just accept calling it ‘Jewish Christmas’? “When’s your holiday?”

“ _Hanukkah_ already passed,” Kyle says, and Clyde just nods.

“You didn’t go home for that?” Kenny asks, now kneeling down at the bottom shelf. Clyde wonders if he’s trying to find something in particular, or just looking through random stuff.

“It was before term ended, so.” Kyle shrugs. “And I figured I didn’t go home for that, so why bother going home now. At least I can work in peace here.”

“Yup. Lots of work.” Clyde moves his gaze back down to the desk. This guy is kind of boring. “Sooo much work…”

“What are you all doing here, anyway?” Kyle asks then. “You’re not celebrating either?”

“I mean, I celebrate it normally,” Clyde says. “Just…not this year.”

“I’ve got too much stuff to do!” Tweek exclaims, even though he’s changed his attention from his papers to his phone. Of course, the screen is cracked.

“And it was easier for me to stay here,” Kenny finishes. “Now we’re all in the library, for whatever reason. Just like fate or something.”

“Not going to lie, I’ve never had to turn off the alarms on Christmas day before,” Kyle mutters. “I was kind of expecting one of the wires had dysfunctioned, or some homeless guy was trying to break in through the back.”

“Guess you got lucky then!” Clyde says cheerily, then ducks down when Kyle shoots him a look.

“Lucky that at least I don’t have to spend all day filing a report, I guess,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Just wish I’d have brought my laptop with me or something.”

“Could always read,” Kenny says, lifting up one of the books from the bottom shelf. “Never the wrong time to learn about the architecture of Kenya.”

“Sure,” Kyle says, turning his attention back to his phone. The four of them fall into silence, and Clyde spends a few more seconds staring down at the desk, before deciding to get up.

“Gonna go check my phone,” he says, which sadly isn’t a lie. Everyone else just murmurs in acknowledgment, and Clyde makes the lonely trip back up to the top floor.

His things are still where he left them, near to the window looking out over the city. Now that the sky is all inky, it looks a lot more Christmassy outside. Like that whole festive glow thing, with everything lit up. Clyde tries his best to ignore it, sitting down at the seat with his laptop, and then staring down at his phone. When he clicks it on, his worst fears are confirmed.

A single message.

A single message and it’s not from any of his flatmates or friends.

Clyde swallows, then swipes across the screen to see ‘ _Hope it’s going well. Can you call later?_ ’. Just that makes him want to cry, feeling all the weird emotions swirl up in his stomach. It was sent like forty minutes ago, too, so he can’t really ignore it for too long without being suspicious. Full of gloom, Clyde texts back.

_‘Yeah it’s going well! Super fun lol. Been busy sorry didnt see message!!! Hope it’s okay for u too’_

And then he drops his head down against the table, pulling up his arms to cushion himself. He hates lying, it feels so gross and bad. But then he also doesn’t want to make anyone else feel upset, and telling the truth would definitely do that. And he’s kept it up all the way until this point, all the way through the past few weeks…he can’t give up now. It’s only a couple hours more.

Clyde closes his eyes to shut out the view of the library and the lights of the city, trying to imagine tomorrow. Everything will be chill again then. No more expectations or worrying. December 26th. Totally unremarkable day. Maybe good for shopping. Not much else.

It would be great if he could just sleep the rest away until then. Well, at the very least, he can try.

-

“Uh- C-Clyde…?”

“What?” Clyde jerks his head upright, blinking at the surrounding light. For a moment he’s confused as to why his bedroom looks so different, and why there’s no light trickling in from anywhere, before he remembers where he is again.

“Ack-!” Tweek jumps back from him, pulling his outstretched hand back in. Oh, he must’ve woken Clyde up. Which means he must’ve fallen asleep. “Sorry, I thought you were dead-!”

“Oh, no.” Clyde sits up further just to prove he’s definitely not dead, then checks the time on his phone. Damn, it’s only been like an hour. Not even close to the 26th yet. “Just asleep. Are the others still here?”

“I think so,” Tweek mumbles, still looking nervous. “Everyone kind of split up I guess, ngh.”

“Did you finish your work?” Clyde asks. He keeps his gaze on his phone, noticing now that there’s another notification. Oh no.

“You can never finish work, man!” Tweek exclaims, shaking his head. “But…I guess I did enough for today.”

“That’s good. Now you can relax.”

“Right…” Tweek doesn’t look convinced. Then he frowns at him. “Uh- are you okay?”

“Me?” Clyde blinks. “ _You’re_ asking me if I’m okay?”’

“Yes??”

“I’m fine,” Clyde says, frowning. “I think it’s you who needs to be worried. Like, about yourself.”

“Gh, I’m fine! This is just how I always am!” Tweek says, which doesn’t sound like the best explanation, but. “I just thought you seemed- worried, or something.”

“Nah, it’s fine, really.” That’s all he can say unless he wants to start sobbing. To distract himself, he goes to read the message on his phone without thinking, then feels his mood further drop when he realises what he’s looking at.

_‘Good to hear! Who are you with? Your flatmates? I’d love to see your party!’_

“Oh no,” Clyde says, then snaps his head up to look at Tweek. “You have to help me.”

“So you’re not okay!”

“I’m okay, I just- need a hand with something,” Clyde says, then takes a deep breath. “You have to take a selfie with me.”

“What?!”

“It’s life or death, Tweek!” Clyde insists, and Tweek starts blinking very fast.

“Why? What’s happening?!”

“I’ll explain later,” Clyde says, already on his camera app. “Look like you’re having fun. Like it’s the best Christmas ever and we’re super close best friends.”

“You’re freaking me out, man!!”

“ _Please_ , it’s really important!” He holds up his phone, trying to angle it so that the library isn’t visible in the background.

“Gh, okay-“ Tweek moves alongside him, face still troubled. “This better not be for anything- weird!”

“I promise I’ll explain later,” Clyde says, then moves so they’re both in frame. To Tweek’s credit, he manages to pull off a totally natural smile despite his usually apprehensive expression, and it doesn’t even look too much like he’s being held at gunpoint. Probably looks happier than Clyde, actually. “Thanks, dude.”

“You’re welcome…” Tweek says, pulling back from him. Clyde wastes no time sending the picture to his dad, breathing out at the relief of knowing his front isn’t busted yet. That should convince him for at least a couple hours that everything is fine.

“Now the world won’t end,” Clyde says confidently, placing his phone back down on the table.

And then all the lights switch off.

“Oh god!” Tweek yelps, and Clyde actually feels for him this time. They’re really not catching a break with the random occurrences today.

“Was that one of you guys again-?” Kyle’s voice echoes up from the bottom floor, and Clyde picks his phone back, fumbling to get the torch. Might be a good idea to get back down there if there’s more crazy shit about to happen.

With Tweek at his side, Clyde hurries back down the stairs, going as fast as he can without faceplanting down the stairs. Just as he’s reached the final step, the lights come back on again. Because of course. That would be too easy otherwise.

“Did the power cut or something?” Kyle asks, still sat in the same place he had been before, though his coat is off now.

“Not me-“ Kenny calls over from the other side of the room, apparently busy with something on the computer. Hopefully not porn. The wi-fi’s public.

“Oh, I’m sorry-“ A new voice comes from over by the door, and when they look over, there’s a friendly looking guy stood wrapped up in a coat, two bags held above a pair of crutches. “I didn’t think there was anyone h-here.”

“You’re library staff?” Kyle asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m in the student association.” The guy holds up his bags. “Just got back from an event. Name’s Jimmy!”

“I’m Kyle, part of the library team,” Kyle says. “Came to turn off the fire alarm, and now I’m stuck here until at least six.”

“There was a fire?” Jimmy asks.

“It was an accident,” Clyde says, frowning.

“There wasn’t a fire!” Tweek clarifies hurriedly.

“Oh, well that’s awfully good to hear,” Jimmy says, walking forwards to their table. “Wouldn’t be any good if there was a fire on C-Christmas. Are you fellas having an event here, t-too?”

“Not really,” Clyde replies. “Just- none of us are really doing Christmas this year, so.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Jimmy says. He puts down the bags, still smiling jovially. He definitely seems like the type of person to sacrifice a Christmas to doing random college events. “I was doing some w-w-wworkshops with some of the students staying over the break, and I have some leftovers if you fellas want.”

“Food?” Clyde asks hopefully, leaning over to look in the bag.

“I got some chocolates,” Jimmy says. “And, if you like, some gluh-glitter for making Christmas cards.”

“Oh please no,” Kyle says quickly. “The cleaners here know me by name.”

“You’re like a Santa or something,” Clyde says, watching in awe as Jimmy pulls out a plastic tin of chocolates, placing it down on the table. “The Holy saviour.”

“If you don’t want to make a card, you could make a decoration,” Jimmy says, then frowns. “W-wait, that’s glitter too. Well, how about a charity shoebox? Hold on, that’s also glitter…”

“Please,” Kyle begs, shooting him a despairing look.

“Hmm, I’m sure there’s something you can do without glitter,” Jimmy says, rooting around further in his bag. Clyde is still waiting patiently for another chocolate box to appear, when something starts buzzing against the table. Which obviously makes Tweek jump. Like a human alarm clock.

“Oh, that’s the car people-“ Kyle grabs his phone, standing up. “I gotta take this.”

“No puh-problem,” Jimmy says, then pulls out two small candy canes, still with the wrapping on. Clyde watches Kyle leave out the main door, then sidles up to Jimmy.

“Is that chocolate leftover?” he asks, eyes resting on the lid.

“Oh, help yourself,” Jimmy says, and Clyde wants to get down on his knees and pray in gratitude. Not in a gay way, though. “You been here all d-day?”

“Pretty much,” Clyde says, cracking the tin open. Okay, a lot of the strawberry cream ones left, but he can work with that. “Celebrating Christmas alone. Or, with these guys, I guess.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Kenny calls over from the corner. “You’ve fallen in love with us over the course of the day, admit it.”

“Jimmy is the only one who has brought me food, so therefore Jimmy is only one deserving of my love,” Clyde says, mouthful of chocolate. “You guys are pretty chill though.”

“Good to hear,” Jimmy says, grinning. “Normally the library is empty today. Even the international students like to take the day off.”

“What do you study?” Clyde asks. “Are you like, trying to become an entrepreneur or something? One of those charity guys?”

“Nah, I’m in J-Journalism,” Jimmy replies. “But I do like to do charity work too!”

“A perfect guy,” Clyde says, shaking his head. “I bet you’re swimming in chicks.”

“Well.” Jimmy shrugs. Picture of modesty.

“See? I told you.” Clyde swipes another chocolate, amazed that this one isn’t one of the worst flavours. There is some humanity left.

The doors swing open, and Kyle walks back in, phone put away. He moves back over to the table, but picks up his coat instead of sitting down.

“Well, I can finally leave,” he says. “Car is dethawed and ready to go.”

“We’re still cool, right?” Clyde asks. “Like…no fine?”

“Yes, I will take pity on you and not ruin your Christmas,” Kyle says, shaking his head. “Have a good rest of the day.”

“Add me on Insta!” Clyde calls after him. “Clyde Donovan, look me up!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll a-add you,” Jimmy tells him after Kyle leaves without another word.

“Thanks man,” Clyde says, then starts digging around for another chocolate. Actually, now that there are snacks in front of him, he realises that he’s actually pretty hungry. Like, it’s around six now? And he still hasn’t eaten? That’s a long time between meals. “Hey, anyone wanna order a pizza?”

“I’ll split one,” Kenny calls over, and Clyde gives him a thumbs up.

“Is that allowed?” Tweek asks gingerly, and Clyde glances at Jimmy.

“I’m n-not in charge of what goes in the l-l-library,” he says, shrugging.

“Dude, you are so cool,” he says, already grabbing for his phone. “Are you staying here? Or gonna go again?”

“Sadly I have to take off soon,” Jimmy says, still smiling. “Fuh-family are waiting back home.”

“Oh, yeah…” Clyde focuses on typing in the pizza delivery place web address, trying to pretend that it isn’t already saved into his most visited sites. “Hey, would it be offensive to ask if I could duel with your crutches?”

“What are you saying?!” Tweek hisses from beside him.

“Well, I would prefer it if you didn’t,” Jimmy replies politely.

“That’s fair.” Worth a shot.

“I can give you some card making packs, if you want something to do,” Jimmy says, poking at the bag. “Just no gl-gl-glitter.”

“Sure.” At least it’s something to do that doesn’t have any immediate risk of breaking furniture or bones. Well, hopefully. “What’s the easiest thing you got?”

Jimmy roots around in the bag for a moment, before pulling out a small clear folder of plastic, red paper squares inside it. “This one is just folding paper into envelopes.”

Clyde thinks, then shakes his head. “I think I can manage more than that.”

“Are you sure?” Tweek asks him.

“Nobody believes in me,” Clyde says sadly, ducking his head down.

“No! I do! I just think envelope folding can be pretty hard!!”

“I’ll just give you everything I have,” Jimmy says, pulling more packs out of the bag. “Just promise no glitter, okay?”

“That’s…a promise I don’t know if I can keep,” Clyde says, and Tweek instantly snatches it away from him.

“Are you guys still ordering pizza?” Kenny calls over again from the side, and before Clyde can reply there’s a clatter of wheels against the carpet as Kenny rolls over to them. “Anyone wanna go halfs?”

“I could order two?” Clyde suggests. “You have half of the second one.”

“Sorry, I’m not staying,” Jimmy says.

“Lemme just-“ Clyde goes to click his phone back on, before it lights up by itself. A phone call. Oh no. He tries to look as casual as he can as he rejects the call, head down so he doesn’t have to find out if anyone is thinking he’s suspicious. “I’ll, uh- call them back.”

Well, he probably will.

-

The opportunity doesn’t come until after the pizzas have arrived, and after Jimmy has left. Just the three of them again, making a reminiscent shadow of the morning. The original library Christmas OGs. That’s Clyde and these guys.

And the phone he’s trying desperately to ignore.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” Tweek asks, glancing anxiously at the flashing of the screen as he finishes stacking the empty pizza boxes together. “It might be important-!”

“Nah, it’s just a Christmas thing,” Clyde says, picking it up but not answering it.

“But what if there’s an emergency??” Tweek asks.

“They rang earlier too, right?” Kenny adds. Now Clyde is beginning to feel increasingly guilty. Added to the amount from before.

“Okay, I’ll go take it quick,” he says, shrugging like he’s just so popular that it’s annoying to have to deal with all this attention. “Can you find a place to throw out the pizza boxes where the staff won’t find them?”

“Just slide them in the art section,” Kenny says, and Tweek glares at him.

“No!”

“Okay, well, I’ll leave that to you,” Clyde says, pulling himself up from the chair with phone in hand. “Gotta clean up all by yourselves. That’s what you get for forcing me to answer my phone.”

Honestly, he’d rather tidy up.

Just for good measure, Clyde climbs all the way back to the top floor, because it would be lame if the other two could hear him whilst he talks. It’s been long enough that the ringing has stopped, which gives Clyde opportunity to call back. That makes him look, like- nicer? More eager? Like ‘I did miss that call but not because I’m hiding from you or anything sinister which I will now prove by returning the call’.

It picks up on the second ring.

“Oh, Clyde?” The relief in his dad’s voice makes Clyde’s gut twist, and he knows it’s not just because of the pizza grease. “You finally picked up! Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, happy Christmas. Uh, sorry, the- party’s really loud, so I didn’t hear first time.”

“It doesn’t sound too loud.”

“I- I went outside ‘cause- quieter. Out here.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” his dad’s voice crackles through, obvious background noise audible behind him. “Must be a great party if it’s still going strong all these hours later.”

“Yup.” Clyde stares at the books in front of him, then turns around to face the light of the city instead. “Is it going okay for you too?”

“Oh, it’s great here. The guys rented out a bar and we’ve just been watching sports and drinking all day. Even managed to get us a turkey!”

“Oh, wow. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” his dad says, then seems to hesitate. “You know, I wasn’t sure when you suggested staying at college over Christmas this year, but it really has worked out for the best. Even for me!”

“Yeah?” Clyde asks, swallowing when his voice threatens to tremble. “It’s not bad?”

“Not at all! One of the best Christmases in years, honestly.”

“Awesome,” Clyde says. “Uh- anyway- I have to get back to the party. We’re playing a game, and- they’re probably all waiting for me.”

“That’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Super good.” He doesn’t feel like he sounds very convincing, but he can just blame it on a bad connection if so. “Same for me. One of the best Christmases.”

“I’m really glad to hear that, son,” his dad replies, voice warm. There’s a clink of glasses in the background, and a faint cheering. “Well, I’ll let you get on with it! Speak to you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

And the call ends.

Clyde stares down at his phone for a moment, noticing the numbers on his screen telling him the call only lasted for a minute thirty-six. Then the numbers blur, and Clyde buries his head into his hands.

Well, to be fair, this was long overdue.

Seriously, who is he kidding? He’s not okay. No way he was ever going to be okay. Sure, things aren’t as bad as they could have been here, and they aren’t bad for his dad at all, apparently, but- it’s still hard. He’s still _sad_ about it. Still conflicted about his decision. Which is probably bad in itself. God. This sucks. It sucks.

“Clyde?”

Clyde looks up through teary eyes, seeing Kenny and Tweek hovering near him. Oh no, as if this couldn’t get any lamer. Now the other guys are seeing him cry like a dumbass.

“Are you- okay?” Tweek asks, voice surprisingly gentle, like it had been before. Except this time Clyde can’t just laugh it off and pretend it’s all fine, because it’s obviously not. Even though it is. The reason it’s not is the reason it is. “Who was on the phone?”

“My dad,” Clyde confesses, then sniffs. “And he’s really happyyyy…”

Tweek sits down on the seat next to him, not saying anything whilst Clyde cries a little more. Kenny just stays lingering behind him.

“Christmas at my house is always really bad since my mom-…“ He stops himself, rubbing at his eyes. “And it’s depressing, so I thought- I wanted my dad to have a good time…”

“And he’s not?” Kenny asks.

“No, he is.” He sniffs again, probably looking gross. He’s not a cute crier, he knows that. “I just- I feel guilty because I don’t know if I should’ve gone home anyway, but he’s all happy and he thinks I’m at a party and I’m at a libraryyyy.”

“That’s what the selfie was for?” Tweek asks.

Clyde nods sadly. “I’m glad he’s happy. I’m just sad too.”

“I mean, that’s a really nice thing to do for your dad,” Kenny says, which just makes Clyde’s eyes water more.

“But he wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was sad…” He keeps his head down. “And it’s too late to change anything now.”

“I mean…” Tweek gives him a concerned look. “There’s…always New Year’s, right?”

“Yeah, dude, you can celebrate that in style,” Kenny says. “Get wasted. Go to a big party.”

“Will you guys come with me?” Clyde asks tearfully. “You guys are cool.”

“Sure,” Kenny says, when Tweek just twitches in reply. “I’ll even wingman for you.”

“Thanks,” Clyde says, sniffing one more time. “My new year’s resolution is a D cup.”

“I hear you, buddy,” Kenny says, patting him on the back. Then his expression changes into something more coy, leaning down next to Clyde. “Do you wanna build a snowman-?”

“Oh, dude, don’t do that, that’s creepy,” Clyde says, moving away with a wet laugh. “You sound weirdly like the song.”

“I was actually a princess in my last life,” Kenny says, winking. “And Tweek was Elsa, queen of the ice.”

“Gh, why do I have to be Elsa?”

“Was I the hot guy?” Clyde eyes, looking up at Kenny hopefully.

“You can be Olaf.”

“He’s the hot guy, right? Got like, Canadian or Swedish charm, whatever the movie was about?”

“Yup, he’s the hot guy,” Kenny says.

“No-“ Tweek starts, frowning, but Kenny cuts him off.

“It’s been snowing outside like all day, though. Be a waste not to use it.”

“Yeah.” Clyde gives his face a final wipe with his sleeve before standing up, feeling oddly renewed. Sometimes crying is like this. It’s just a matter of actually stopping crying in order to feel better. That’s the hardest part, though.

Grabbing his coat and scarf from where he left them on the table, Clyde follows the other two downstairs and out the door. First time the library has been empty all day. And also the first time in many hours since Clyde has stepped outside.

And it’s _really_ cold.

“Jesus, it feels like twenty degrees out here,” Tweek says, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Better make this snowman quick before we all freeze to death,” Kenny says with a grin, already bending down to scoop up a ball to shape. The light from the library lights up the area surrounding them, and though it does look very aesthetic with the thick layer of undisturbed snow, it’s also making him yearn to be inside of that light source very much. The place where there is also heat.

Still. If he could manage it as a kid, he can manage it now.

“You guys make the body,” Kenny instructs, already building up a medium sized lump. “This will be the head.”

“What, you think I’m not strong enough to lift the head up?” Clyde challenges, patting some snow into a ball himself.

“Can you?”

“Probably.” He’s pretty sure snow isn’t even heavy, though now he’s doubting himself. Maybe he should just leave that one to Kenny. Save his dignity. “Tweek, help me roll.”

“Technically, he should just be able to magic one up,” Kenny says, and Tweek makes a face as he leans down to help scoop snow onto the pile.

“She wasn’t even using her powers at that point in the film,” he mutters.

“You would only know that if you were a _true_ fan,” Kenny says.

“Gh! No way!”

“It’s okay, Tweek,” Clyde says, breath puffing out in front of him. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be the main character in Ratatouille. You know, so I could eat all the food?”

“…You mean the rat?” Tweek stares at him.

“He’s not _actually_ a rat though, right? He’s like, a person pretending to be a rat, or something.”

“…Okay,” Tweek says, turning back to the snow. Clyde makes a mental note to check Wikipedia once they’re back inside.

Making a snowman actually doesn’t take as long as Clyde remembers it to, but then again, as a kid he’d always been concerned with rolling as much snow as possible and then being annoyed when all the gross muddy stuff ended up part of his base. Good thing the ground here is pavement, and also the snow is pretty thick, because he’s not sure seeing cigarette butts stuck all along his creation would be that great.

It’s also freezing, which helps motivate him to create the body as quickly as he can. Tweek spends some time smoothing down the body and making it stable enough for the head, which amazingly stays in one piece when Kenny hauls it down on top. No way it’s that heavy.

“Beautiful,” Kenny says, admiring their work. “Now all we need is a carrot or something.”

“No!” Tweek shakes his head. “Putting a carrot on is bad luck.”

“In what culture?” Clyde asks, frowning. Before he can get an answer or even think about that any longer though, something brown whips past their feet, and his thought process is instantly diverted.

“Dog,” Kenny says.

“Dog,” Tweek confirms.

“ _Dog_ ,” Clyde all but weeps, falling onto his knees to let his newfound saviour approach his face. The dog instantly bounds over to him, tail wagging furiously and _oh_ he even has a little patch around his eye.

“Sorry!” someone calls in the distance, and Clyde honestly could not care in the slightest who this dog belongs to because he needs this dog more than anything else right now. “I didn’t expect him to run ahead like that.”

“No,” Clyde shakes his head, glancing up to see another student-looking person running over, dog leash in hand. “There’s no problem.”

“D-does he bite?” Tweek asks, keeping a safe distance behind Clyde.

“No way, dude,” the newcomer says as he approaches them, grinning as he watches his dog sniff around the base of their snowman. “He’s too friendly for his own good.”

“He’s so good,” Clyde mutters, trying and failing to wrap the dog into a hug. Tweek manages to inch a little closer, hesitantly holding out a hand in an attempt to pet him.

“Were you guys doing something here?” the dog owner asks, glancing around at the library, and then back to them. “Oh god, don’t tell me I interrupted some religion thing.”

“Nope, just three random guys building a snowman,” Kenny says, brushing off the snow to sit on the wall. It’s probably still cold as hell, though. “You a student too?”

“Oh, yeah. I live locally though.” He shrugs. “Didn’t expect there to be people around.”

“Oh, he’s really soft!” Tweek exclaims when he finally manages to get his hand in contact with the dog’s fur.

“Dude, come down here and hug him with me,” Clyde begs, even though he’s kind of starting to regret getting down on his knees in his jeans. Does _not_ take long for snow to soak through. He can’t help it though. It’s been so long since he’s been able to interact with a dog, since all the flats around him don’t allow pets. It reminds him of being a kid and having his mom and his dad and old dog around, and using wrapping paper as impromptu dog toys. Oh man, he better not cry again.

“But yeah, uh. It’s usually pretty well lit around this area, so I walk Sparky a lot here.”

“I guess it must be kinda boring living around here,” Kenny says.

“I mean, sometimes.” He shrugs again, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “The New Year’s parties are usually pretty good though. Like, when all the students come back for it.”

“Okay, true,” Kenny says. Clyde is only half-paying attention to their conversation, enthralled when he sees pawprints in the snow. “There one this year?”

“Obviously. Everyone’s going to the main park, I heard. Though you gotta get there pretty early if you wanna get any booze.”

“You hear that, Clyde?” Kenny calls over to him. “That’s your plan for New Year’s set. You could meet someone, even.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s a pretty good place to meet girls, if you’re after that,” the guy says. “Mostly just helps things feel a little less depressing though.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kenny says with a grin.

“Guess I’ll see you there, if you decide to go,” the guy continues, then turns his attention back to the dog. “C’mon, Sparky. Leave them alone.”

“He can stay,” Clyde says quickly.

“Sorry, dude, I gotta get back. Gotta make sure my dad doesn’t break anything.”

“Farewell, dear puppy,” Clyde mourns, just as the dog lifts a leg and proceeds to pee all over their snowman.

-

“And so, the day is over,” Kenny says as they pile back into the library, the dog and his owner long gone. Clyde strips off his gloves in an attempt to warm up his hands, pressing them under his arms.

“Is it really over?” he asks, glancing at the clock on the wall across from them. “S’only seven.”

“Over for me, at least,” Kenny says, shrugging. He doesn’t take off his coat, moving back over to the area he’d been sat before. Tweek stays standing next to Clyde. “Gotta take off.”

“Aw man, really?” That’s a blow, even if obviously it’s not like these two could stay with him until like, midnight or something. He supposes they _are_ real people, and not just figments of his imagination that he thought up to spare him from the crushing loneliness. Hopefully.

“Christmas is a great day for free handouts,” Kenny says, securing his bag up onto his back. “It’s one of the only days of the year where people remember poverty exists.”

“What, you get like free soup or something?”

“Whatever’s there.” He shrugs. “I’m not picky.”

“Fair enough…” Clyde keeps standing awkwardly, not sure if he should go sit down or not. Tweek doesn’t seem to be inching back over to the table, so maybe he’s leaving too. It’s always that thing where one person leaves, and then everyone else does too. Well, they didn’t do that with Kyle, or Jimmy, but…

“You’ll be okay, right?” Kenny asks, glancing between the two of them.

“Fine,” Tweek says, nodding briskly.

“Yeah,” Clyde says, then grins slightly. “I’ll be fine too.”

“Nice to hear.” Kenny pulls his scarf up to cover over his nose and mouth, then nods at them again. “See you in a week.”

“Why a week?” Clyde asks, frowning.

“The party?” Kenny blinks at him.

“Oh shit, that’s next week! Oh yeah, okay.” Wow, there really isn’t a big break between Christmas and New Year’s, huh. “Yeah, dude! I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” Kenny winks again, then heads towards the door. Clyde almost feels like he should salute watching him go, but manages to restrain himself. The doors open, and shut, and then Kenny is gone into the night. So, now there’s just two.

Clyde glances at Tweek. “So…you’re leaving too?”

“I-I guess?” He darts back over to the table, gathering his things into a loose pile. Even the paper on the floor. Clyde would’ve definitely forgot that. “I don’t like walking home when it’s too late, so-!”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” He comes and sits on the table, staring up at the ceiling. This will probably be the last time he ever sees the place so quiet. Especially since he’s graduating in a years’ time. Shit though, he doesn’t want to think about next year. That’s a long way off. “You know, I don’t think I lied _that_ much, technically.”

“Huh?” Tweek blinks at him, pausing in his packing.

“Like, I said to my dad I was going to a big party with all these cool new people I met over the semester,” he explains. “And it’s not that untrue, ‘cause all the people I met today were cool.”

“It could be a party,” Tweek says. “Just…a really small one.”

“Exclusive VIP party. The Christmas MVPs.”

“Gh, sure?”

Clyde’s phone buzzes from his pocket, and he takes it out, only now realising that maybe he shouldn’t have put his freezing wet glove in the same side. Using the end of his sleeve, he wipes off the screen and sees another message from his dad. This time, he opens it up without delay.

_‘Party still going on?’_

Clyde stares at it for a moment, before replying _‘just finishing now. It was fun though’._ Then he turns to Tweek, and asks, “You’ll come to New Year’s too, right?”

“I dunno. Maybe if I can get my friend to join…” He pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “I think you’d like him. He’s, um, pretty nice! Really rich, but- really friendly.”

“Yeah, bring him too!” Clyde says, grinning. “I’ll force my flatmate to come too. The Physics guy. You’d probably get along with him. Or hate him. He’s like the total opposite of you. Doesn’t care about _anything_.”

“Sounds scary,” Tweek says, looking disturbed at this description.

“Just message me if you decide to come,” Clyde says, holding up his phone as if Tweek wouldn’t have known what he meant otherwise. “We can group up.”

“Okay,” Tweek says after a moment, then smiles. “I’ll let you know.”

After Tweek finishes packing up all his clutter, they walk over together to the main doors of the library, and Clyde feels just a little cool getting to turn off all the lights on his way out. Like he’s the owner of the building or something. If this were a Christmas movie, this would be the part were the credits started to roll after everything is enveloped in black. Feel-good music over the names. Which is honestly a lot better than sad depressing piano music starting to play.

“Nice meeting you,” Clyde says, turning around to face Tweek in the darkness. Yeah, it hasn’t gotten any warmer in those past ten minutes. “Keep me in your heart forever.”

“You’re making it sound like you’re going to die!” Tweek exclaims, eyebrows twitching. “Just say see you later!!”

“It’s a dramatic moment!” Clyde says, then sighs. “Okay, fine. See you later.”

“Now you sound like you hate me,” Tweek says, frowning.

“Dude! Okay, fine, see you! Never forget me! Let’s meet again!”

“Gh, close enough,” Tweek mutters, then smiles at him. “See you.”

And then Tweek spins around and makes his way up the street, speeding his way through the thick layers of snow. Clyde watches him go, feeling weird stood all alone. Well, at least it didn’t turn out that they were heading the same way. That would be kind of awkward.

But, yeah. Alone again.

…It doesn’t feel this bad this time. Hopefully it won’t all revert once he gets back to his flat, which is obviously going to be just as dark and cold and empty as this morning. Though, at least the dread won’t be there this time. That’s something, right?

From his (non-wet) pocket, his phone buzzes again, and Clyde removes a hand from under his arm to fish out his phone, instantly feeling the cold biting at his fingers. Man, sacrificing his gloves for a snowman that lost a chunk of his torso to dog pee…not really worth it.

_‘Great to hear! Hope I can see you soon. Love you.’_

Clyde keeps his eyes on his phone, then clutches it just a little harder in his hand, feeling warmer. Actually, yeah, he’ll be fine. It’s Christmas, and it’s also just another day, and honestly, a day that hasn’t been that bad. Cried a bit, sure, but also ate some chocolate, and pizza, and had a pretty chill time.

And, anyway. This is just like…his adjustment year. Next year will be better. And then the year after that. Probably.

He’ll keep his hopes up, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> this year's been really weird huh!!!!! this fic is kind of a shoutout to anyone spending the holidays in a non conventional way ;~; i hope it gets better soon!!!  
> im not sure when my next fic will be >> i'm working on a creek oneshot but it's gotten very out of control in terms of word count so ..... but i'll try to finish as soon as i can!!!  
> i hope everyone can stay safe and enjoy yourself to the best you can!!!!! happy holidays to you all <3


End file.
